


Can't Blame Gravity For Falling In Love

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, M/M, Mention of underage drinking, Requited Unrequited Love, a tiny bit of angst, blink and you miss it though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: Stiles wakes up naked in Derek's bed, and he has no idea how he got there.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 20
Kudos: 486





	Can't Blame Gravity For Falling In Love

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt meme, for the prompt sent in by an anon : "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

The first thing Stiles hears when he wakes up is a moan. It takes him a while to comprehend that the sound is what woke him up in the first place and that it’s coming out of his own mouth. His mouth, that is dry and sticky, his throat raspy and his head pounding. There is something soft surrounding him though, and his face is pressed into a fluffy cloud, which dulls the ache in his head and body just a little bit. 

When he tries to roll over, he’s vaguely aware that he’s curled up in a warm bed and that he’s not wearing any clothing. Also, this isn’t  _ his _ bed. 

Stiles groans once more, pushing some of the covers off his head, squinting his eyes as the sunlight hits them. 

“You up?” a voice asks him, and Stiles knows that voice. Yet it takes his brain just a few seconds to piece together that it belongs to Derek. 

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” the words tumble out of Stiles’ mouth, and then he blinks and smacks his lips together, because no, that’s not right. He tries again. “Is there a reason  _ I’m _ naked in  _ your _ bed?” 

“Other than to torment me?” Derek asks, his voice gruff and well… very Derek-like. 

“Uhm…” Stiles mutters, blinking his eyes a few more times before he dares to look up at Derek, who is standing by the side of the bed -  _ his bed _ \- with a cup in his hand. 

“Drink this,” Derek says, holding the cup out towards Stiles, who is now pushing himself upright in the bed, making sure the covers are wrapped securely around his waist. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles as he takes the cup, which is warm to the touch, and brings it up closer to his face to take a whiff. The smell of the coffee actually makes him feel about a hundred times better already, but it isn’t bringing back a lot of memories of the night before. 

Derek doesn’t seem to be offering up much of an explanation either, and Stiles’ mind is going to the weirdest places, because he knows why he’d  _ want _ to be naked in Derek’s bed, but that just can’t be what happened. There’s no way. 

He vaguely remembers a party - wait, wasn’t it Isaac’s birthday? - and Derek reluctantly agreeing to hold it in his loft. Stiles is fairly certain he helped plan the whole thing because Scott is kind of an organisational mess but that still doesn’t explain why he feels like he got run over by a truck, or why he clearly spent the night in Derek’s bed. 

“Your father thinks you spent the night at Scott’s,” Derek offers, as if he’s somehow reading Stiles’ mind, “Which was apparently the original plan anyway. So don’t slip up when you get home.” 

“Okay…” Stiles says, gulping down some more of the coffee before putting the cup down on the floor next to the bed, one hand carefully tugging along the duvet so it continues to cover him. Derek looks just about the usual amount of annoyed and grumpy, nothing Stiles hasn’t handled before, so he dares to ask, “So, uh… Why did I end up here?” He motions to the bed, specifically. 

Derek huffs out a sigh before saying, “Some idiots from your school decided to spike the alcohol-free cocktail Lydia made. I kicked them out once we realized but you’d already drank a fair amount.” 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Stiles says, an uneasy feeling setting in the pit of his stomach, because while he’s had the occasional beer on the down-low, he certainly didn’t plan on getting plastered at Isaac’s birthday party. And he certainly doesn’t like the idea of it happening against his will. Knowing Derek, whoever did it must’ve gotten the scare of a lifetime though, which isn’t an unpleasant thought. They had it coming. 

“You were fine,” Derek says almost void of intonation, a stark contrast with the words he’s actually saying, and Stiles thinks that’s probably  _ why _ . “You got kinda sluggish and tired, so Scott put you to bed so you could sleep it off safely.” 

“Your bed,” Stiles says dumbly. 

“Yeah,” Derek says, his jaw clenching up a bit, like he’s uncomfortable at the thought. 

Stiles can’t say that he blames him. Stiles is probably the last person Derek would want to have invading his personal space, and a bed doesn’t get much more personal. 

Of all the times Stiles fantasized about ending up in Derek’s bed, none of them were drunk and… well, without Derek. 

Stiles sighs and scratches his fingers over his torso sleepily. 

“Why am I naked?” he blurts out all of a sudden, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think there’s a blush spreading on Derek’s face. 

“That’s all on you,” Derek huffs, nodding towards a pile of clothes on the floor next to Derek’s bed. 

“Oh,” Stiles says, pulling the duvet up higher to his chest. He’d want to get out of bed and get dressed and out of Derek’s hair, but that’s kind of difficult to do with Derek still standing there, and Stiles still being naked. “Ugh,” Stiles lets himself flop back down on the bed, face pressed into the mattress. “I’m so sorry, man,” he starts, groaning, and then a switch is flipped and the babbling kicks in, “Thanks for not kicking me out when the party was over. I mean, fuck, you couldn’t even sleep in your own bed because of me. I mean, you could have, I wouldn’t have minded, I just would have prefered to be awake for it, but surely you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in bed with me, and you were already nice enough to let us have the party here - ”

“What?” 

“I mean, sure, Isaac’s your Beta,” Stiles goes on, barely registering what he’s saying or Derek’s interruption, “But we all know you’re not exactly the ‘ _ sure, have a party in my loft! _ ’ kind of guy, even though you did, but that was mostly because Scott talked your ear off and maybe guilted you into doing it and - ” 

“Stiles!” Derek’s voice calls out in the room, effectively shutting Stiles up as he looks at Derek with wide eyes and maybe a blush on his face. “What did you say?” 

“No, I mean,” Stiles says, stumbling over his words, because did he just insult Derek? “You did agree to having the party here and that’s actually really nice of you - ”

“ _ Not _ \- !” Derek shakes his head, and he seems confused all of a sudden, and Stiles has no idea where that came from. 

“What?” Stiles asks, his shoulders slumping down as he looks up at Derek who is hovering by the side of the bed. He’s trying to replay his words in his head and… 

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

He just admitted to wanting to spend time with Derek in his bed and ooooh, this is bad on so many levels. Panic courses through Stiles’ body as he tries to scramble off the bed, reaching for his clothes while one hand struggles to keep the duvet around his waist because Stiles is pretty sure that if he shows Derek his bare ass on top of having basically confessed his feeling for him, he won’t make it out alive. 

“Stiles…” Derek calls out. 

Stiles topples off the bed, clutching the covers, fingers almost touching his pants, as Derek kneels down on the floor in front of him, slamming down a hand on his clothes. 

Okay. This is okay. Stiles can make a run for it with the duvet. Or without. He doesn’t need his clothes. He can run out naked if it means saving his life. 

“Stiles!” Derek says, a little firmer. “You’re giving yourself a panic attack!” 

“You’re trying to kill me!” Stiles blurts out, and Derek flinches at the words, taking his hand back as if he’s been burned. His lips are slightly parted, like they’re stuck around a word, and he’s frowning at Stiles, but there’s something else in Derek’s expression… something almost  _ sad _ . 

“I’m not,” Derek says, surprisingly soft, and then it hits Stiles that… he’s not. Not at all. Derek hasn’t made a move for him in the slightest, hasn’t threatened him or tried to beat him to a pulp or even tried to kick him out. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles exclaims as he dramatically lets himself fall to the ground on his back, because this rollercoaster of emotions is doing his head in. 

“Did you…?” Derek asks, and the tone in his voice reveals exactly what Derek is asking. 

“Yeah…” Stiles groans, closing his eyes, his arms sprawled out beside him. “But can we pretend that I didn’t?” 

Stiles thinks that maybe he would have prefered having been sent home drunk. He might have been grounded for life, but at least Derek wouldn’t have found out about the intense crush he’s been harboring since forever. 

“No,” Derek says, because  _ of course  _ he does. Stiles’ life would be so much easier if he wasn’t surrounded by stubborn assholes. Yes, even ones he’s completely and utterly in love with. 

Stiles groans as he turns around again, pushing himself up on his knees. He snatches the rumpled pile of clothes with his hand before Derek can stop him again and says with a sigh, “Come on, man. Why do you have to make my life a living hell?” 

“That’s not what you were implying…” Derek says. 

“Yeah, well…” Stiles says as he tugs the duvet up around his shoulders, “It’s not because you make my heart skip a beat every time I see you that it doesn’t profoundly suck.” 

“Oh.” 

“Unrequited love is only romanticized in movies, you know. It isn’t so much fun in real life,” Stiles says with a huff, because if Derek isn’t going to let this go, Stiles isn’t going to sugarcoat it either. “So not only does it suck that you now know, I would really appreciate it if you didn’t make things worse by mocking me or being an asshole about it.” 

“I wasn’t aware that I was doing that,” Derek says, crossing his arms in front of his chest, a frown firm in place on his forehead. 

“Yeah, well, I was anticipating,” Stiles says, and he’s not entirely sure why he’s channeling his embarrassment into anger right now, only that it makes him feel marginally more defended against the hurt. 

“The only person being an asshole right now is you though,” Derek says, clearly displeased. 

“Come on, man,” Stiles sighs, “Give me a break.” 

“No, how about you give me one?” Derek says all of a sudden, angrily, “Because for a second there I thought you were saying you had feelings for me, but you turned that around into me somehow being the worst person alive so quickly I’m surprised you didn’t get whiplash.”

“I…” Stiles stammers, and he wants to argue with Derek but… Derek is right. “I’m sorry.” 

“Whatever,” Derek says, shaking his head, “I’m going out. Just… close the door when you leave.” 

Derek turns around and starts walking towards the counter where his wallet and keys are, and to Stiles’ surprise he looks sad somehow. Which is not something Stiles’ heart can handle, it seems. 

“No, wait,” Stiles scrambles up on his feet, draping the duvet around himself as some sort of shield when he paddles after Derek. “I’m sorry, it’s just… I don’t want to be in love with you.” 

If Stiles didn’t know any better, he would swear that Derek flinched at those words, and he doesn’t exactly know what to make of that either.

“Because I know I don’t stand a chance and it’s embarrassing and it’s painful every time I see you,” Stiles forces himself to go on, then blows out a puff of air. “There. Now you know. So now’s your chance to show me that you aren’t an asshole and to let me down easy.” 

Stiles tugs the duvet tighter around his shoulders and braces himself, lifting his head a little to face whatever Derek is going to say head-on. 

“You’re an idiot,” Derek says, monotone, and Stiles misses the slight curl on the edge of his lip because he’s too busy feeling gut-punched. 

“Dammit, Derek,” Stiles sighs, and he starts to turn away from Derek when there’s a hand stopping him. 

“I don’t want to let you down at all,” Derek says then, tugging the duvet a little so Stiles finds himself suddenly impossibly close to Derek. 

“Well, nobody likes doing that, but - ” Stiles starts, but then his brain freezes ‘cause Derek’s lips are on his and that is distinctly not the action of someone trying to let you down. Stiles has a million questions speeding through his brain, not one of them fully formed because Derek’s lips are warm and distracting and are not only pressed up against his, but are moving too, nudging against Stiles’, opening up his mouth and…

_ Oh my God.  _ That’s tongue. Derek is kissing him and there’s tongue and it’s soft and  _ wonderful _ . 

Derek’s hand comes up against Stiles’ neck, thumb stroking against the skin and Stiles can’t catch the moan that escapes him. Derek doesn’t seem to mind though, only curls his other arm around Stiles’ body, pulling him a little bit closer. There’s a soft duvet between their bodies and Stiles is both grateful and sorry for it, because he is suddenly very aware of how naked he is underneath it, and while he really hopes that that is something he can also explore with Derek in the future - maybe the  _ near  _ future even - Stiles is still so woefully inexperienced when it comes to even kissing that he doesn’t want to skip ahead too fast. 

But Derek just holds him around the cocoon of fluffiness, slowly and dutifully mapping out Stiles’ mouth with his tongue and it’s a good thing Derek is supporting him because it makes Stiles feel weak in the knees. When he finally pulls away, it’s to press a few soft kisses to Stiles’ lips first, and then Stiles just lets himself fall against Derek’s chest, face nestled into Derek’s neck, content noises leaving his throat. 

“Oh my God,” Stiles mutters, and somehow Derek smells amazing and feels amazing and tastes amazing and part of Stiles thinks maybe he’s still sleeping. 

Derek just hums a sound of approval, tightening his arms around Stiles’ frame. 

“You’re not an asshole,” Stiles says against the skin of Derek’s neck, and he’s rewarded by a chuckle that he can feel vibrate through Derek’s body. 

“You came to that conclusion all on your own,” Derek says, his voice low and rumbling in his chest. 

“And I was wrong, so wrong,” Stiles says, pressing his nose underneath Derek’s jawline just because he can. “I’m the idiot, I’m the asshole, I own up to it all, and I know I don’t deserve it but…” He lifts his head just enough to be able to look Derek in the eyes. His eyes are soft and his face open and relaxed and Stiles doesn’t remember ever seeing Derek like this. But he likes it. “Can you please kiss me again?” 

Derek smiles -  _ smiles _ \- and it’s so breathtaking that Stiles doesn’t even wait for Derek to indulge him and just kisses him himself. 

Derek’s mouth is waiting though, and ready to comply. 

***

_ Fin _


End file.
